


At Your Side As The World Burns

by orphan_account



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Asphyxiation, Cunnilingus, Dictator!Leslie, F/M, Femdom, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1523561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are people for that, an entire government for that-"</p><p>"That could be wiped away as easily as the last was! And here I am, in charge of this nation in a way I never wanted or dreamed. Ben," she whispered brokenly, "this is a nightmare. Not my dream."</p><p>"Shhh, shh. We’ll get through this. Leslie, there is absolutely no one better prepared to lead this country right now."</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Your Side As The World Burns

**Author's Note:**

> parksandreckink asked for dictator Leslie roleplay. I ended up writing AU Dictator Leslie instead.

Uniformed soldiers patrol the streets of Washington, D.C., trying to keep a peace that could shatter as easily as the very idea of democracy had. Leslie Knope looks out the floor to ceiling window, sunset shuttering her weathered face, tight with tension and weary from unexpected responsibility. She gives an almost unnoticeable start as the door opens and shuts and her second in command, Ben Wyatt, comes to hold her from behind, a comforting touch around her hips. Some of the hardness bleeds from Leslie's face as she leans into her husband, her bodyguard, her knight.

"Leslie, you don't have to worry about this tonight. Everything is set in place. Nothing is going to go wrong." Ben murmurs soothingly into her ear, nuzzling her temple in the way that she's always loved.

"How do we know that, Ben? It won't be the first time threats were made and carried out. I feel like everything is falling apart. I hardly have time to put together binders with up to date rules and emergency preparations in case of attack-"

"There are people for that, an entire government for that-"

"That could be wiped away as easily as the last was! And here I am, in charge of this nation in a way I never wanted or dreamed. Ben," she whispered brokenly, "this is a nightmare. Not my dream."

"Shhh, shh. We'll get through this. Leslie, there is absolutely no one better prepared to lead this country right now. I'm proud of you. I believe in you. We never wanted it like this, but there are so many ways things could be worse." He kisses her throat softly, his graying stubble tickling her. Ben has become just as, if not more, weathered under the chaos that consumes the world. He'd been forced into places and situations that he never wanted, nor could have predicted. It left him harder than he should be, more willing to enact the hard decisions his wife begrudgingly made. He saw how the executions chipped away at her, how she never wanted anything but for the protection and safety of the nation. It had to be done. He took on as much of it for her that he could, willingly scraping away the parts of himself that he couldn't bear so that she could stand up a little bit taller, bear just a little more of the earth-shattering responsibility. Still, the people seemed to hate them as equally as they relied upon them for stability. It was harder and harder for them to find time to be soft with each other like this.

"Ben, not now-- we can't, there's still more to do-" He turns her around, hands traveling from hips up to the side of her breasts, nipping at the delicately perfumed hollow at the base of her throat. Her right hand moves up into his hair, her left sliding down to grab his butt. She loves that butt so much. Ben releases a groan as she squeezes him, teasing him, and he willingly submits himself to her hungry kiss, both their hands grasping wildly, wantonly, pulling and pressing each other closer. His hands move under her bra, palming the stiffly hardening nipples and roaming across her chest.

Leslie takes a firm grasp of his pressed collar in her hand, choking him just a bit as she continues to coax breathy noises out of his throat. She tugs him away from the window and over to the lounge at the side of her office. It won't be the first time the battered black leather couch found the two of them wrapped around each other, too sick of the world to face it, ensconced in one another for a small eternity. She presses him into the leather seat, following immediately to straddle him, her neat executive skirt hiking up as she presses herself into his heat, her hand grabbing at his belt buckles and undoing it deftly. Ben wraps his palms around her thighs, pulling the skirt even higher as they meet each other in equal pressure, grinding against one another as a wet, hot gasp spills from Leslie's throat. He starts freeing her from her underwear and pantyhose, rolling them down below her ass and suddenly his pants are totally open and he's free, and God how he just wants to be inside her, right now. But she lifts herself off his lap and takes the seat next to him, laving his throat with harsh bites and soothing licks, and with her firm grasp at his lapels directs him nonverbally to the floor in front of her.

He kneels in between her legs and swiftly starts pulling off her heels, hose, and underwear. Task done, he leans onto his heels, breathing ragged with his shirt undone showing sparse salt and pepper hairs and his pants down his ass, cock flushed red and hard. Leslie takes him in with her eyes and hooks an ankle behind his neck, pulling him closer to the apex of her thighs. He pauses where she leaves him, mere inches from her wetness and his eyes rove over her shirt and bra, pushed up as far as they can go from where he was fondling her breasts earlier, her soft stomach and breasts flushed with red all the way up to her face, a concentrated, intense desire in her eyes for him.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Wyatt? Permission?" She asks, a soft curl to her lip belying the harsh way she spoke the words.

"Yes, Madame President. Do I?" She palms his cheek, rubbing fondly.

"Do you what?" She asks cheekily just because she can. Ben drops his voice an octave and gives her a needy look.

"Do you grant your permission to fuck you with my tongue until you come, Your Ladyship?" Over the years Ben has grown to be very, very good at taking care of things big and small for the last leader of the (mostly) free world. Something crosses Leslie's face, hungry and uninhibited.

"I do." She speaks solemnly, a keenly felt and echoed memory of laughter, wedding vows, times when they had no idea the hell their lives would become, all the friends they'd lose. But they still have each other. Ben acknowledges the enormity of her words with a nod and lowers his mouth into the musky warmth in between her legs, breathing deeply the arousing and soothing scent of his wife.

He starts off slow, just the way she likes it; parting depths and folds of her with his tongue, being oh so gentle, avoiding her clitoris so that she has to be the one to move him there. Both of her hands are buried deeply in his hair, watching him like he was her own personal project, determined to see him through to the end with perfect performance. He does so try to please her. Meeting her eyes briefly, he dips his tongue into the wetness waiting for him, humming at the taste. As if it signaled the start of a race, Leslie directs his head deeply into her, pressing herself up into him, and he moves his lips, his tongue, quickly and hungrily as she presses into him, and it's getting harder to breathe, but he presses on, moving up to swirl his tongue around her clit and gulp for air, a dying man in the desert with all the water he wanted but not enough air.

Leslie pants and keens, legs clamping him to her as she finally lets go of his head and just leans hard into the couch, grabbing fistfuls of the leather at either side of her, breasts heaving and eyes so, so far gone. He spreads her open and presses one finger into her, then another as she writhes and rides him, her once perfectly coiffed hair now a mess as she presses against the sticky leather of the couch and becomes completely, utterly undone. Ben feels her pulsing around his fingers and finally wraps his other hand around his dripping cock, a few swift strokes matching the steady waves of pleasure he can feel Leslie experiencing, and soon he too is overwhelmed, lathing her with his tongue as she comes down and groaning into her as he releases himself, hot and viscous onto the couch.

He shifts his face up from where it was firmly planted against her inner thigh at a soft touch to his temple. "I love you." She tells him simply, and for another moment it's as if this is all of their world. It's as if they achieved world peace, right here with him on his knees and buried between her thighs. He kisses her palm reverently and pulls his fingers out from her, immediately setting them inside his mouth to taste her again, to worship her one last time before they have to pull themselves together for another tense meeting with military and heads of state breathing down their necks. She guides him up to splay on top of her with but a gentle touch at the jaw, and tenderly as any memory they are kissing, newlyweds again and just as madly in love as they never stopped being.

"And I like you." Ben replies in promise, an earnest vow.


End file.
